


a flame in the dark to follow

by matchaball



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Clothing swap, F/M, Fluff, Identity Reveal, OR IS IT, Returning Home, Trapped In A Closet, dun dun dun, lmao these tags together are so suggestive, nah this is pretty aggressively fluff, wink wonk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-11
Updated: 2016-03-11
Packaged: 2018-05-26 04:18:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6223594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/matchaball/pseuds/matchaball
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Paris needs me to fight,” she tells him, an underlying intensity lacing through her words. Her eyes are impossible to look away from. “But it needs you to be worth the battle.” </p><p>For it’s the people who make the city, and if there’s anything Adrien’s always known about Ladybug, it’s that she loves Paris. Loves it enough to don that suit that makes her so iconic, makes her so easy to look up to, and makes her fling herself into the face of danger so others don’t need to. </p><p>Her kindness makes her brave and fierce and so easy to love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a flame in the dark to follow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [megamegaturtle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/megamegaturtle/gifts).



> Happy birthday to @miraculousturtle on tumblr! And a good excuse to finally write some Ladrien. Enjoy!

When Adrien finally arrives on scene, he is two hours late and bitterly kicking the fact that he has to fight his way through hoards of tourists rather than the akuma he _should_ be helping Ladybug with.

Alya’s blog has already told him that Ladybug’s first Lucky Charm hadn’t worked; that The Deliverer’s envelopes _swallow_ people whole, leaving only their terrified voices screaming out from the flaps; and that he is _late_.

He ducks into a small, empty shop and spots the small supply closet tucked away in the corner. The sudden quiet in the dead space rings eerily in his ears compared to the screams outside.

The handle of the supply closet jams but Adrien heaves and shoves his way through. The moment right before the door closes behind him, the unmistakable sweep of sparkling light envelops another figure before they are both swallowed by cold darkness.

Adrenaline rings in his ears and impatience itches fiercely across his skin, but the silence muffles both sensations, leaving a wary hesitance.

Light flares out from his phone and in his fumbling, it flashes over Ladybug’s face.

Ladybug’s _unmasked_ face.

Adrien almost drops his phone at the realization and the light sweeps past too fast for him to make anything out. By the time his hands are steady, his phone is trained on her and they both freeze.

The edge of the circle illuminates one brilliantly blue eye and the barest hint of freckles dusting the skin underneath. The rest of her face is folded in shadow, and the irony of what is exposed and what is obscured is not lost on either of them.

His eyes slam shut as he whirls around to face the door, his heart plummeting down just as fast as his phone that clatters to the ground.

He hears her move behind him, and doesn’t budge an inch until her voice incredulously breathes, “Adrien?”

It really is unfair that her voice alone has the power to make his skin flush and the hairs at the back of his neck to tingle. The closet is small enough that she is much closer than he expects and the proximity does nothing to untangle the knot of thoughts clogging his head.

A sharp jab to his rib from Plagg refocuses him enough to remember that he needs to go, he needs to transform, he needs Chat Noir.

But he’s trapped in a cold, dark closet with Ladybug, and his priority is _not_ enjoying the moment but getting away. Somewhere, irony is having a great laugh at his expense.

She is likely as capable of taking care of herself untransformed as she is when suited up, but he also knows that while her mind is still functioning as Ladybug, racing with adrenaline and calculation, her body stands unprotected and vulnerable. 

“Do you need me to go?” he asks. His mind sinks at diving back into the mob of tourists who have no idea how to coordinate themselves in the face of an akuma, and who make hiding and transforming next to impossible.

“No,” Ladybug stops him firmly, and that is the thing too: she would never ask him or anyone else to sacrifice their safety for her. “If you go out there, you’ll be caught by one of those envelopes. Just give me a moment.”

Long minutes crawl by and Adrien tries not to fidget, tries not to become distracted by thoughts of exactly who could be standing behind him ( _Ladybug_ , he knows, and the knowledge steals over his skin with pleasant warmth, _Ladybug but- not_ ), tries not to wonder how the public is faring against The Deliverer without Ladybug or Chat Noir to protect them. Different types of cheeses parade in his mind in an effort to give his mind something to focus on.

The barest brush of cloth against his back is enough to hook into his navel and drag him back to reality. Cloth brushes against him again, and even through the thick sweatshirt he wears, he can feel the slightest hint of shaking. A jittery exhale sweeps over his back and a thought lights in his mind.

“Are you cold?” he asks. Even though the dark wood of the door is what he sees, he doesn't need sight to figure out why she is taking so long to recharge. “I know ladybugs’ reaction times are impeded when winter comes.” It’s technically autumn out, but the supply closet is cold enough for him to wonder if they hadn’t accidentally trapped themselves in a walk-in fridge instead.

“Calling me slow now, handsome?” Ladybug huffs breathlessly behind him, her voice faint. “I’m alright, it’s just… taking a little longer than I thought.”

 _Handsome_ is a word that sounds _much_ different coming from Ladybug than anyone else. Affection and cheekiness adds a lilt in her voice and Adrien’s suddenly thankful that he can’t check to see if the heat suffusing his face colours his skin the same shade as her suit.

Before she can protest, he lifts the collar of his sweatshirt over his head and peels it away from his body.

“What-?” Her voice strangles strangely at his action.

“Paris right now needs Ladybug more than it needs Adrien,” he explains himself quietly as he holds his sweatshirt out for her behind his back. The soft fabric, still warm from his body heat, slides through his fingers as Ladybug accepts.

Rustling cloth and a sigh of relief tells him she’s put it on, and the knowledge that _Ladybug_ is wearing his clothing is enough to light fires under his skin.

After a moment, she mutters, “Spots on!” and a rush of air rolls over him like a wave. The lingering sparks of magic prickle faintly over his back, same as his own; but lighter, gentler, headier.

Her hand slides past him and opens the door. She squeezes around him so that when he blinks rapidly against the sudden light of the room, she is the first thing he sees, a vision of red anchored with blue.

“Paris needs me to fight,” she tells him, an underlying intensity lacing through her words. Her eyes are impossible to look away from. “But it needs you to be worth the battle.”

For it’s the people who make the city, and if there’s anything Adrien’s always known about Ladybug, it’s that she loves Paris. Loves it enough to don that suit that makes her so iconic, makes her so easy to look up to, and makes her fling herself into the face of danger so others don’t need to.

Her kindness makes her brave and fierce and so easy to love.

“I’m afraid my transformation took your sweater," she grimaces at herself when Adrien can’t get his voice working properly to respond to her. How does one articulate gratitude and respect and admiration and _love_ without sounding like a complete mess? Any remaining semblance of coherency and cognition departs at once, leaving him woefully unprepared and unbalanced the instant Ladybug _winks_ at him. “It’ll be our secret, ok?”

She sweeps out of the shop and zips back into the fray, taking his sweatshirt and his heart with her.

Adrien doesn’t know how long he stands there in a complete daze before Plagg rudely yowls into his ears to “ _Ogle later!_ ”. He shakes his head clear, transforms, and leaps out into the streets, following the unerring beacon of her red.

 

* * *

 

Despite the enormous windows that make up an entire wall of his cavernous room, home has always felt a little too closed, a little too opaque for Adrien to feel warm in. He has no doubt all the space is supposed to instill a sense of grandeur, even power, but all he feels is small and rather lonely. 

The windows give him an uninterrupted view of the city he saved just earlier today, with lights sparkling merrily and the deep indigo of the night sky tucking its starry blanket over the buildings carving the line of the horizon.

The night is clear, the night is bright, and the night feels like home.

A flicker of red draws his eye immediately, a habit born from an extreme sensitivity to a particular and distinctive shade. And there, merely a speck at the moment but growing increasingly bigger, is surely Ladybug, swinging from rooftop to rooftop with easy grace. Dark doesn’t dampen her colour, but the blue of the night sinks into the red, turning her flame into a burning ember.

She lands in a crouch a few buildings away, far enough that he knows the cameras positioned around the house won’t see her, but close enough that when she straightens up and stands, he can clearly see that she is wearing his sweatshirt. The dark green fabric drops past her waist and when she lowers her arm from retracting her yoyo, the sleeve falls and claims her hand covetously.

Breathlessness is a sensation he should probably become very used to as all the air rushes from his lungs like the tide being sucked out; and yet something balloons within his chest until he feels like he’s floating.

Distance does nothing to lessen the incredible blue of her eyes, so when his gaze meets hers, she seems as close to him now as when they were face to face. Her arm lifts in a wave and Adrien doesn’t really care how ridiculous he might look as he cracks open one of his gargantuan windows to lean out of and wave back at her.  

The sleeves of his sweater shake back as she gestures with both arms and hands in a message. It takes her several tries for him to figure out that she’s asking if she could go to him. Fireworks wouldn’t have been enthusiastic enough to spell out _yes!_ but he settles for nodding his head vigourously instead.

She stands motionless for a moment, her eyes raking over the impressive structure of his house. Adrien’s worked with her long enough to know she is assessing where the cameras are. She crouches, balling up tightly, before springing up and disappearing from his sight.

If Adrien had to guess, she went for the roof. No one ever secures their rooftops, despite knowing about the two superheros that traverse across them.

Ladybug’s sudden drop outside his window still takes him by surprise and he scrambles out of her way as she swings effortlessly in, like she’s been swinging into his room all her life.

“Thanks for the help earlier,” she smiles warmly at him and her smile alone is enough to fill every empty echo in the room. Every step she takes towards him makes the room a little lighter, a little warmer.  

“It’s nothi- really, not a problem.” His words trip embarrassingly over his nerves and speeding heart. Even though she’s on his turf, his instinctive reaction to her is always the same: an unconscious unfurling in his chest that leaves him open and reactive and combustible.

“I brought something else for you too, besides your sweater back,” she says a little self-consciously, but Adrien washes that away in an instant when he sees the package of macarons that she pulls from the pocket of his sweatshirt. His delight she takes threefold until she is beaming as she hands it over to him.

“You didn’t have to! Seeing you again is enough,” he tells her honestly, maybe too honestly, but she has that kind of effect on him too.

Her mask makes it hard to tell but the flutter of her eyelashes suggests she may be blushing, and the thought has his stomach swooping in dizzy, giddy loops.

“I’m glad to see you’re ok too,” Ladybug assures him, her eyes looking up to peer at him. He freefalls into blue and steps closer in an attempt to ground himself, his hand brushing against the sleeve of his sweatshirt she is still wearing.

This close up reminds him of the small confines of the supply closet and now he knows how she must’ve felt when he pulled his sweatshirt off, even if she couldn’t see, because his own breath strangles in his lungs as Ladybug crosses her arms to grip the bottom edge of the dark green fabric and lifts to undress.

Though the difference is he _can_ see and the roaring in his mind only quiets when he stops her with a hand over hers.

“Keep it,” Adrien insists, and the filter from his brain to mouth completely crumbles into ruin as he continues, “It looks good on you.”

“Thanks handsome boy.” Ladybug grins before brushing her lips over his flushed cheeks in a fleeting kiss. “You’ll be my lucky charm."

**Author's Note:**

> I had a whole akuma design planned and it turns out I didn't even really need it. Ah well. 
> 
> Still slipping around in terms of understanding and writing these guys so comments are super appreciated! Come poke at me on tumblr (matchaball.tumblr.com) if you want! Thanks for reading :)


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